


found you in the fog

by BugontheRug



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Bug's Halloween Challenge, Ghosts, Hunter Daryl Dixon, M/M, New Hunter Rick Grimes, Vampires, Writer Rick Grimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2019-07-24 10:38:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16173386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BugontheRug/pseuds/BugontheRug
Summary: Horror thriller writer Rick Grimes is renting a house on the bayou where the previous owner had a mysterious death hoping to find inspiration for his next novel.Hunter Daryl Dixon knows the death of the previous house owner was something supernatural and now has to save this dumbass who decided it would be a good idea to live here.





	1. Lost in the Bayou: Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Slams open door, I'm back! With a new fic! But Bug, don't you have other WIP that I'm currently waiting for updates to work on? Why yes, I do. Work is killing me y'all, but I'm crossing my fingers it'll be better next quarter. I've also hit a motivation block so I'm challenging myself to write a little bit each day for this Halloween fic and update each day as an accountability. The updates will vary in length but I hope you enjoy this journey with me!
> 
> UPDATE: I reorganized for better reading. It's obviously way past Halloween so the original motivation is gone, but I'm still working on this! I am sad that in my re-organizing I lost all y'alls comments :c They mean a lot to me and I love each one. So thanks to everyone who previously commented and I'm sorry they've been deleted

Sitting at his desk with the cursor blinking at him, Rick stared out the window and watched as the fog rolled down the bayou. Twilight was passing and the fog thickened as the nocturnal critters began emerging.

“In the fog, Jared saw a figure. Or...” Rick leaned back, stretching from his hunched position, and rubbed a hand over his face. “or, against the consuming white wall of fog, a shadow moved, or was Jared finally losing his mind? Yea, that works.” 

The sound of keys clicking filled the near empty room. The nighttime music of the bayou curled its way into the house falling on the deaf ears of the writer. A chill passed over Rick, who only had enough awareness to pull the blanket closer around him but missed how his breath misted in front of him.

An undetermined amount of time passed before Rick looked up from his screen. Out the window, he saw clouds passing over a heavy moon. He stood and cracked his back before shuffling to the bathroom.

“Fuck!” Rick caught himself against the door frame and looked down to see he had tripped over his boots. _I swear I left those by the front door._ He kicked them to the side and continued to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

As he spat out his toothpaste, he saw white fabric drifting at the corner of the mirror. He turned quickly and saw nothing behind him.

“Get a grip, Rick, don’t let your own stories get to you.” He turned off the light and made his way to bed. In the glow of the night light, a face peered out of the mirror, watching Rick’s retreating back.

***

Rick woke up late morning and made his way downstairs for coffee. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and stretched out the kinks in his neck. 

“What the...?” Rick’s left foot found its way into a puddle that took up the landing at the bottom of the stairs. “Fourth time this week.” He grumbled finding a towel to soak it up with. 

On his way to the linen closet, he saw another puddle down the hall. Curious, he went to investigate and found another puddle in front of the door leading to the dock. Continuing down the wet trail, Rick made his way down to the end of the dock.

Peering down at the river, Rick swore he could see something pale in the murky depths. He began to lean over.

“Hey!” Rick started back from the edge, heart pounding, and turned to see a man in motorcycle boots, jeans, and flannel waving at him.

***

“Have ya noticed anything strange recently?” Daryl asked, notebook out and ready. Rick tucked his robe tighter around himself feeling under-dressed.

“Like what?”

“Have you noticed any cold spots?” Rick looked toward the home office.

“I mean, yea, this house is kind of old. There’s bound to be a draft every once in a while.” He turned to watch as Daryl scratched out some notes.

“Always in the same place?” 

Rick took a moment to think. “I don’t know. Maybe?” Daryl nodded and wrote another note.

“Have you noticed anything moving? Like something is someplace it wasn’t before?”

Rick laughed. “Yea, but I think that’s just my memory going.” Daryl’s face pinched, upset about something, but Rick didn’t know what.

“Have you noticed anything else weird happening?”

“What’s with these questions? I thought you were interviewing me as a spotlight author for Write On?”

“Yea, I am. But, like, you write horror, right? And you’re living in a house where someone died. I thought the readers would like a creepy intro, ya know? Set up the story by describing your haunted house?”

Rick rubbed his chin, something not quite right with the explanation, but it makes too much sense to argue with. “Okay, yea.”

“So...? Anything else weird?”

Rick hesitated before answering. “Well, I find these puddles sometimes. I thought it was just a leak, but there’s no water damage anywhere and they always show up in different spots. This morning I followed a trail of them out to the dock. That’s what I was doing when you came by.”

Daryl watched him. His face was deathly serious and was starting to make Rick worry. “Tell me more.”


	2. Lost in the Bayou: Part II

Rick woke diving for cover on the side of the bed farthest from the door, his ex-cop instincts reacting to the sound of a shot gun blast.

"What the fuck?" He heard clattering and thumps coming from downstairs. Quietly, he grabbed his pistol from the side table and made his way to the door.

Opening it he could hear grunts of pain following the thumps. He took a step out, his foot landing in something grainy. Kneeling down and grabbing a pinch, he inspected it, putting a bit against his tongue. Salt.

"What the fuck?" He repeated quietly to himself, more confused than when he awoke. Another shot drew his attention and he made his way slowly to the stairs.

He reached the bottom of the stairs and saw a figure slumped against the wall. He recognized the gruff voice that groaned out a quiet “Fuck me.”

“Daryl?” What was he doing here? At this time of night?!

He saw Daryl’s head whip towards him. “Fuck! Rick! What are you doing out of your bedroom? It’s not safe!” He said scrambling to get up. Rick saw him grab a shotgun that was lying by his feet.

“What’s going on Daryl?” He said, raising his gun. Daryl held his hands up placatingly. 

“Rick, trust me. Ya ain’t safe here. We got to go.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

One moment Rick was staring down his gun at Daryl and the next he was hitting a wall. He sat up grabbing at his right shoulder and looked up to see a woman in white coming towards him.

She was pale with long flowing hair and a terrible grimace. What had a chill running up his spin was the fact that after almost every other step she took towards him, she flickered from view and back again. 

She was almost to him, reaching out her hand about to grab his throat, but he couldn’t move. Fear froze him and all he could do was wait for the icy hand to touch him.

The sound of a shotgun blast shocked him from his inaction and he saw the woman disappear into a cloud of smoke. 

Rick scrambled up the best he could with his injured arm. Daryl rushed at him, grabbing his good wrist and pulled him towards the front door.

Daryl shoved Rick into the passenger seat of a beat up truck and gunned it down the gravel drive through the bayou to the back highway and continued towards town. 

As the trees passed by in silence, Rick finally had a moment to catch his breath to shout "What the fuck was that?!"

"I'm sorry man. I came here expecting a bog monster, not a ghost. Wasn't prepared like I shoulda been." Daryl gripped the wheel tighter.

"Bog monsters? Ghosts?! You're crazy! This is crazy!"

"Calm down." Daryl gave him a hard look that had him quieting and taking deep breaths. "I'm gonna fix this now that I know what I'm dealing with." 

Rick stared at this rough, impossible man.

"Who are you? What are you?"

Daryl gave him the side eye. "I'm Daryl Dixon. And I'm a hunter. If it goes bump in the night, I kill it."

This night kept getting more impossible and Rick hoped he'd wake up from this rabbit hole soon.


	3. Lost in the Bayou: Part III

Rick woke up an saw the ugly, stripped motel wallpaper and groaned. Last night was not a dream. 

Daryl had taken him to an all-night diner and introduced him to the world of monsters. Rick couldn’t believe that some of the shit he wrote about was actually true, that the monsters in his books are out there somewhere and people just don’t know.

Rick admits he was probably in shock from this information. Part disbelief from what he was hearing and part fear that this was the world he was living in and didn’t know it.

Now that he’s had some time to process and start shifting his worldview he was feeling determined. He stretched himself and got up from the bed and noticed Daryl was already at the small table with an old laptop and a takeaway cup of coffee.

“Didn’t know when you’d be awake, but there’s a bagel in the fridge and a cup of coffee here that’s probably still warm.” His voice was still gruff and Rick wondered if it was from years of hunting or something else.

“Thanks.” He shouldn’t be surprised at Daryl’s kindness. He did pay at the diner when Rick realized he literally left all his belongings in that house including his wallet.

Rick rubbed the sleep from his eyes and went to the bathroom. He came back and grabbed the bagel and noticed a small container of cream cheese which he grabbed too. Joining Daryl at the table, he tried to situate himself so their knees would stop knocking but gave up when Daryl gave him a look.

Taking a sip of coffee, he closed his eyes and took a moment to appreciate that he was still alive today to taste coffee. He opened his eyes to find Daryl watching him with a concerned look.

Ignoring it to spread cream cheese on the bagel, he asked, “So, what do we do about this ghost?”

“ _We_ ain’t doing nothin’ about it. _I’m_ gonna take care of it so you can go back to writing in that creepy house.” Daryl paused for a moment. “I still can’t believe you _chose_ to live there in the middle of nowhere in a house you knew someone died in.”

Rick shrugged. “I needed some inspiration.” He shook his head. “But that’s not the point. Don’t change the subject. I’m in this now, for better or worse, so don’t tell me I can’t help.

Daryl gave him another long, hard look before sighing in defeat. “Fine, but yer only gonna do the research. Any actual killing is gonna be by me with you nowhere in sight.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” Rick gave a sloppy salute with a large grin. Daryl sighed again, probably because Rick could be a real smartass. “So, what do I have to research?”

“Well,” Daryl scratched at his chin before turning the computer towards him. “We need to find out who the ghost is, if their body was cremated, if not, where is it buried, if it was then what object is their spirit attached to.”

“Okay, research is like second nature with everything I have to look up for my books. Give me an hour and I’ll have something.” 

“Alright, hotshot. I’m gonna catch a few more z’s. Wake me up when you’ve found somethin’” Daryl flopped onto the second bed, boots and all, and was asleep in seconds. Rick shook his head wondering what his life must be like to fall asleep so fast on an uncomfortable bed and jeans.

***

“Hey, Daryl. Wake up. I got something.” Daryl groaned and rolled out of bed, rubbing his eye as he came to sit by Rick.

Rick turned the computer to him, clicking through several websites as he explained what he found. “So, this house was owned by a Shane Walsh in 1956. He lived there with his wife, Lori, and two kids. And, get this, the kids drowned in the Bayou and less then a year later they both go missing. It’s speculated that they both killed themselves by jumping in after their kids, but others said Lori went a little crazy after losing her kids and most likely drowned her husband before killing herself.”

“Well, there’s the violent death we’re looking for. Damn, the bodies were probably not found, right?” Daryl rubbed a hand over his face.

Rick’s foot bounced under the table. Being a writer didn’t bring the same adrenaline rush as when he was a cop, but this, this was a fix he didn’t know he needed. “What do we do now if there’s no body?”

“Did ya find anything about any object she was attached to?” Rick shook his head.

“No.” They both slumped into their seats lost in their own thoughts. Rick steepled his hands in front of his face and closed his eyes. After a few minutes of silence, Rick sprang forward slamming his hands on the table startling Daryl.

“I think I know where to find an object! When I was exploring the house I found a bunch of old boxes in the attic. Maybe some of them have the Walsh’s things.”

“Well, what are we waiting for.” Daryl stood shoving his chair back and grabbing his duffel. “Let’s go.” Rick stood, excitement running through his veins before looking down at his pajamas. 

“Uh, Daryl? Can I borrow some clothes?” he asked sheepishly.


	4. Lost in the Bayou: Part IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end of arc one! Let me know what monster you think they should encounter next in the comments! :D

Daryl pulled up to the dock that lead up to the house. "Okay, it's daytime so the ghost shouldn't be that active."

"Okay then. Let's go." Rick had his hand on the side handle when Daryl grabbed his other forearm, stopping him.

"You ain't going anywhere. You stay here while I get rid of this thing and then you can go back to your life."

Daryl was out the door before Rick had a chance to respond. He watched as the hunter walked into the house carrying his duffel bag and shotgun (that Rick now knew had rock salt rounds in it) and heard the car doors lock.

Rick picked at a hole in the loose fitting jeans he borrowed from Daryl and thought about what the other man said. Go back to his life? After this? Writing horror stories after being in one seemed so pale in comparison. He looked back at the house and an idea popped into his head.

He unlocked the door and ran into the house, excitement pouring out of him. Not a second later he heard a gunshot ring out from the attic. Double timing it, he burst into the attic to find Daryl anxiously digging through boxes before looking up at his entrance. 

"What the fuck are ya doin' here?!" Daryl growled, standing and stalked over to him. "I told you to wait in the car!" 

"I had somethang to tell you! Plus," he pointed a blaming finger into the other man's  chest, "you said ghosts aren't active during the day."

Daryl huffed. "Either this one is powerful or it really doesn't want me to find the thing keeping it here."

"How long do we have before it comes back?" 

"Not sure. We better start lookin'."

As Rick went to follow Daryl, he suddenly found himself in the air and landing on a stack of boxes before hitting his head on the wall.

He heard Daryl call for him before his voice strangled out. Trying to bring things into focus, Rick saw double of the ghost holding Daryl above the floor by his throat. He dazily looked around, trying to find anything that would help and saw a flash of gold on the floor.

It was a locket. It must've fallen out of one of the boxes he landed on. He reached for it and opened it to find pictures of a little boy and girl. He recognized these kids from the newspapers he dug up on the Walsh's. 

He put the locket in his pocket and started crawling towards Daryl's bag. Daryl wasn't looking too great from his vantage point and tried to move quickly but quietly.

He poured a little salt on the locket and flicked the lighter on. At the sound of the lighter click, the ghost turned toward him, dropping Daryl, who was on all fours, gasping and coughing.

Quickly, Rick put the locket in the flame and watched, with his heart racing, as the ghost came at him, burning and screaming before disappearing two feet in front of him.

The two men on the dirty attic floor were silent bar the heavy breaths coming from them. 

"Well," Rick said, breaking the spell, "It could've gone worse." 

Daryl dropped his head to the floor with a groan while Rick let out hysterical laughter.

***

“Ok, yer house is now ghost free,” Daryl said before draining his coffee. They were seated at the kitchen table celebrating their brush with death with coffee. “’Bout time I head out.” He pushed his chair back, grabbed his duffel bag, and headed to the front door.

“Wait!” Rick called, reaching out to stop him. “You didn’t hear my idea.”

“What idea?”

“When I came running in earlier--” “Like an idiot.” “Fine, when I came in here earlier like an idiot, who saved your life, by the way, I wanted to ask you if I could join you, write your story. There’s no way I can go back to my life after this, knowing what’s out there.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. People don’t choose this life, it chooses you. You’ll forget about this, about me, and things will go back to normal.” Daryl tried to walk away again but Rick grabbed him by the elbow, turning him back around.

“No, I won’t accept that. It did choose me, it brought you here, I’m involved now.” Rick’s voice held no room for argument. Daryl sighed, rubbing his forehead. 

“Why do you want to write about me anyway?”

Rick rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, this stuff is better than any horror I can write, and I think it’s important to let people know what’s out there even if they don’t believe it. We don’t have to use real names or anythang.” He looked up at Daryl and smirked. "Plus, seems like you need someone to watch your back.

Daryl gave him a hard, calculating look. “Pack light and meet me at the truck in five.” Daryl finally made it out of the house and Rick’s heart was soaring as he flew up the stairs.


	5. Club of the Dead: Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So begins arc two:
> 
> Rick has joined Daryl as his new hunting partner and quickly realizes the life of a hunter isn't always as exciting as he thought it'd be. However, he is determined to learn the ropes and keep a record of his journey along the way.
> 
> Stopping in Oklahoma City, Daryl finds a case involving death by vampires. Although he is concerned about starting Rick with a difficult case, all too soon things go to shit and it's up to Rick to get them out of it.

Daryl and Rick drove Highway 55 out of Louisiana into Tennessee at turned on to 40 west at Memphis. They drove for hours, occasionally stopping for food and rest stops. By the time the sun set, Rick’s legs felt cramped and his back was sore and he was getting a bit bored. He didn’t know what he thought would happen once they hit the road, maybe start looking for another ghost to kill. But hours of passing highway and quiet rock wasn’t it. He tried talking to Daryl in the beginning, but the man’s short answers didn’t leave room for conversation.

“Are we stopping soon?” Rick asked, dreaming of spreading out on a bed.

“Sure, next city we’ll find a place,” Daryl responded gruffly. Rick looked out the window at the red-orange sky and hoped they’d reach the next city soon.

***

They pulled into a dingy looking motel on the outskirts of Oklahoma City. “You sure you don’t want to stay somewhere else?” Rick asked, eyeing the men congregated on the sidewalk a little ways off.

“’s cheap and they don’t ask questions.”

“Well, I have some money from my previous book deals and we can always pay for silence if needed.”

Daryl snorted as he left the truck. “You wanted to become a hunter. This is how we live. Now, wait ‘ere while I grab us a room.”

***

The room was outdated, walls and carpeting faded where the sun hit them through open curtains. The bathroom was covered in a grime Rick imagined was immune to any cleaner. Still, he showered, avoiding touching anything the best he could before joining Daryl at the small table.

“So,” Rick started as he towel dried his hair and took a seat, “where are we going?”

“Dunno,” Daryl said without looking up from his old laptop.

“Then, why have we been driving?”

“’S good to keep moving, not stay in any place too long.”

“How do you find monsters to hunt?” Rick was realizing there was a lot about this new job that he didn’t know.

Daryl shrugged before turning the laptop toward him. On it were several windows of different news articles about the same gruesome murder. “If you know the signs of different monsters, it can be easy to spot them in newspapers. Other times just looking for weird and mysterious deaths will do the trick.”

“So, you just drive around, looking at news articles when you stop for something suspicious and if you don’t find anything you move on?”

“That sums it up.” Daryl must notice the look on Rick’s face. “Not so glamorous is it.”

Rick shook his head. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but I’m here and I want to learn. Did you find anything?”

Daryl took the computer back. “Yea, seems like there’s been a stream of missing people only to find the dead and drained. Weird since vampires were practically extinct less than a decade ago. Damn Winchesters probably had something to do with it.” The last part came out bitter, piquing Rick’s curiosity.

“Winchesters?”

“Forget about them,” Daryl warned with a pointed finger at Rick’s nose. “You hear the Winchesters are in town you get out. You hear the Winchesters need help, you run the other direction.”

“Who are they?”

“If you stick around long enough, maybe I’ll tell you.”

Rick dropped it, planning on bringing it up later because there’s no future he sees where he’s leaving this life. “Alright, so tell me about vampires.”


	6. Club of the Dead: Part II

That night Rick lay awake with all the new information swirling through his head. Everything he thought he knew about vampire lore was wrong. A wooden stake to the heart wouldn’t kill them, sunlight didn’t burn them to a crisp, crosses and garlic didn’t repel them, and they had retractable fangs that filled their mouths, but otherwise look human. The only way to kill them was decapitation.

Rick shifted to his side, tucking his thin pillow under his head for support, and watch the even rise and fall of Daryl’s body. The gruff hunter had fallen asleep fully clothed, including shoes, on top of the covers. Rick’s pretty sure he even put a knife under his pillow. He sighed, wishing he could have fallen asleep as easily. Instead, he was trying to come to grips that vampires are real, that it wasn’t some joke Daryl was telling. He thought by joining Daryl he had admitted to himself that there were strange things out there, but now, coming face to face with reality, Rick wasn’t sure if he could handle it. What will he do if, when they find the vampires? Will he attack? Will he freeze in a panic? Will he flee leaving Daryl by himself? 

No, the last one would never happen. He continued watching the other hunter, remembering the ghost holding him up by his throat, feet dangling off the attic floor. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that he wasn’t leaving this man to fight alone. 

He turned back to the face the ceiling with a sigh. This wasn’t working. He was antsy thinking about impersonating lawmen tomorrow, thinking about seeing a vampire in real life and having to kill it. Rick rolled out of bed giving up on any thought of sleep. Grabbing his laptop, he settled on the bed, back resting on the headboard with little cushioning from the pillows and powered up the laptop.

_So today I learned that vampires are real and everything I thought I knew was wrong. But before I tell you all about that, let me tell you my origin story, my ghost story..._

***

Daryl looked at Rick, taking in the over-sized suit he borrowed from Daryl and the other man’s hands that kept trying to smooth back his curls. “Calm down, wouldjya? Yer stressing me out.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Rick put his hands in his pants and rocked back on his heels a few times before stilling, back straight, as the front door open.

“Hello Mrs. Sanchez. I’m Agent Michaels and this is my proby, Agent Smiles.” Daryl flipped his fake FBI id for the woman to see as Rick blessed her with a 100-Watt smile. Agent Smiles indeed. Mrs. Sanchez was a petite Hispanic woman. The bit of grey at her temples the only sign of her age. 

“Thank goodness. Come in come in.” She waved them to a floral sitting room. “Would you like any lemonade?” 

“Yes, please,” Rick answered. Daryl gave him a look once Mrs. Sanchez turned and left the room, to which Rick just shrugged with a smile. “What? It’s guest etiquette.” Daryl rolled his eyes before Mrs. Sanchez walked back into the room.

When they all settled, Daryl began. “I’m assuming you know why we’re here?”

“Yes, my baby, my Enrico, went missing over a week ago. But the local force won’t do anything, saying he’s an adult, he probably went somewhere with friends, ‘a boy doesn’t need to tell his mommy everything’ they said.” Her disgust could be felt with every word. “My boy would never leave without telling me. He comes over every Wednesday for dinner. Every Wednesday since he moved out. Never missed one without telling me. That’s how I know something bad must’ve happened.” Tears were forming and Rick stood up to offer her a tissue.

“I’m sorry, I know this must be hard, ma’am. Is it okay if I ask you a few questions?” She nodded, dabbing her eyes. “Where was the last place you knew he was at?”

“He went out with some friends to try out a new club, uh, Vertigo Tower, I think it was called. I told him to have fun and that I would see him the next day for dinner. And he never came back.” Crying always made Daryl uncomfortable. It was his least favorite thing about cases, talking to the ones left behind. Thankfully he had Rick who seemed to know just what to do. The other man sat on the sofa next to Mrs. Sanchez and provided a fresh tissue.

“Do you know if he’s been hanging out with anyone new?”

“No, the same group of friends from college. Enrico has trouble moving out of his comfort zone to make new friends.”

Daryl and Rick continued through their list of questions and soon were heading back out the door. They bid Mrs. Sanchez farewell and walked back to the truck.

“You were pretty good in there,” Daryl said, causing Rick to laugh.

“I sure hope so! I was a cop in Atlanta for years and had to deal with this kinda stuff often.”

“You were a cop? I thought you were a writer?”

“I am. I retired early because of a gunshot wound in the shoulder,” he said rolling his left shoulder, “It was a wake-up call. I didn’t want my life to end when I’ve barely done anythang.”

“And throwing yer life away to hunt is any different?” Daryl didn’t understand this man. He didn’t understand why he would join Daryl in a job that was basically suicide by monster.

“Yea, I’m saving people, hunting thangs that people don’t know to be on the lookout for.” 

Daryl just shook his head as they both climbed into the truck. “Whatever you say, Rick.”


	7. Club of the Dead: Part III

They paid a visit to the rest of the families, five in total. Three had the comfort of knowing their child was at peace, while the other two were waiting for news. Each said the same thing, the last known location was Vertigo Tower.

Rick and Daryl headed back to the motel to make plans for that night. Daryl went to take a quick shower. When he came back out he found Rick passed out on his stomach. Daryl snorted with a small smile. Life has a hunter was rough, especially for sleep since monsters kept strange hours. He’d let Rick sleep for a few hours, the club wasn’t opening for a long while anyway.

***

Rick and Daryl entered Vertigo Tower after waiting in line for almost an hour.

“They’d better have some good whiskey after that dumbassery. Who really waits that long for a drink?” Daryl grumbled, making Rick laugh.

“They aren’t comin’ for the drinks, darlin’. They’re here for the music, the dancing, the atmosphere, and to find someone to take home.” Rick may have missed Daryl’s blush at being called darlin’, but not the snort when he said atmosphere. “Also, should we be drinking on the job?”

“If we want to blend in, then yea.” Daryl shouldered his way through the crowd towards the bar. Rick followed with an eye roll but found it hard to keep up as dancers kept stepping in his way, offering a dance, which he declined. He looked over one person’s shoulder to catch sight of Daryl, who shrugged off every advance without trouble, disappearing into the crowd.

“Come on, just one dance,” the guy blocking his path said with a leer.

“I already said no, now let me,” Rick went to move past him when the guy sidestepped into his path. Rick was starting to get annoyed when a woman in a slinky black dress came up next to him and grabbed his arm.

“How about a dance with me?” She asked, looking up from her lashes and pressing her breasts against him.

“No, thank you, I came here with someone and--”

Leering guy stepped into his path again after he shook off the woman. “Well, whoever you came with has obviously left you behind so why not find someone else to spend the night with?” 

Rick was gearing up to punch the guy when he was suddenly dragged away from behind.

“Can’t fuckin’ take you anywhere blue eyes.” Rick was relieved to hear Daryl’s gruff voice in his ear as he was shoved onto a bar stool. “Now order something and keep a lookout.”

For half an hour, Rick sipped his beer and watched people grinding, making out, and some actual dancing, but nothing suspicious. “I’m gonna hit the loo.” He leaned into Daryl’s space to be heard over the music.

Daryl watched Rick disappear through the crowd trying to avoid wandering hands. Daryl’s hand clenched his glass of whiskey before he looked away and downed the rest.

“Would you like another?” the bartender asked.

“Yea,” Daryl watched the man move around behind the bar and felt stupid that he didn’t think about asking the bartender questions earlier. “Hey, you notice anything strange happening here?”

“Strange? You’ll have to give me more than that because a lot of strange stuff happens the later the night goes.” He gave Daryl a toothy smile.

“Strange like weird noises in the back alley when you take out the trash or any group that’s been coming often and staying long and maybe taking a new person away with them.”  
“I don’t judge how people want to express themselves, whether with voyeurism or an orgy or whatever it is you enjoy.” The man leaned into his space with his voice dripping like honey. “That boy toy of yours looks like a lot of fun. Those curls to hold on tight to while his pretty lips are wrapped around your cock. And those pants don’t leave anything to the imagination, do they?” Daryl was speechless and the bartender gave him a wink. “Here’s your drink.”

He left leaving Daryl feeling too hot and angry and wrong-footed. He downed his drink and turned back to the job at hand. Finding these damn vamps and getting Rick out of this place.

Time seemed to drag on and the people and the music blended into a cacophony of senses making Daryl nauseous. He stood up to go find Rick and felt his legs wobbling with each step and the world seemed to sway around him.

“Hey, sweetheart, you feeling okay?” A honeyed voice asked from the other side of a tunnel.

“Wha? I don’t...my head...”

“Shh, I’ll take care of you.” Daryl found himself floating through a sea of light and sound before drifting into darkness.


End file.
